


A Surprise

by adorablecrab



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut, softcore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 01:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13559784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorablecrab/pseuds/adorablecrab
Summary: Enjolras gets a haircut.





	A Surprise

**E** **nj** :  
I have a surprise  
**R** :  
???  
**Enj** :  
I’m going to wait for you in your place. See you later!  
**R** :  
I still have two lectures today!!  
**R** :  
Don’t do this to me!!!!  
**Enj** :  
I love you <3  
**R** :  
I love you too BUT

 

Enjolras smiles and he pockets his phone. His head feels strangely light, the wind cold on his now much exposed neck. He had been moaning about needing a haircut for weeks, and had finally had enough free time - and the resolve - to visit the salon. His original intention was to go for a trim and he is still trying to understand how the hairdresser managed to convince him to try a different haircut. It had all been a blur of pictures from magazines and calling on the other hairdressers for their opinions. In the end, Enjolras ended up with his hair much shorter than he’s had it in years, thick blond curls scattered all over the floor, and very cold ears.

\--

Enjolras brought his laptop with him to Grantaire’s apartment so he could get some work done while he waited. Instead, he spends the afternoon pacing anxiously around the studio apartment, walking to the bathroom every now and then to look at his reflection in the mirror over the sink, frowning and running his hands through his hair. It’s short on the sides and back, but the top was left long enough that it still falls over his forehead. He can bring the curls right at the front all the way to his mouth if he stretches them. They are much bouncier now without the weight. He is pretty sure that the haircut has a name that was mentioned to him, but he can’t remember.

He doesn’t regret having it cut, not yet at least. It feels really good too. But a small part of him is nervous about Grantaire’s reaction.

Well, a big part. Which he knows is completely unjustified. But _still_.

He takes a shower to get rid of the little leftover hairs prickling at his neck and _oh my god,_ the warm water feels so good on his head. It’s strange how it takes a fraction of the time he is used to to get his hair completely wet. He uses way more shampoo than necessary and feels guilty for staying under the shower for too long. After he is done he borrows one of Grantaire’s flannels and a pair of his boxers. He doesn’t even have to brush his hair!

Grantaire has been texting every hour begging to know what the surprise is. Several times Enjolras considers just sending him a picture and getting this over with, but stops himself. He wants to see the look on Grantaire’s face. By the time he knows Grantaire’s lectures are over his hair is already completely dry, which is a pleasant surprise - he is used to having to wait almost  half of the day for it to dry.

He is going to be home any moment now.

Enjolras’ heart starts pounding when he hears the well-known footsteps approaching the door. He is sitting cross-legged on Grantaire’s bed, with the laptop on his lap. He puts it aside. He considers standing up. He runs his hands through his hair for the millionth time...

“Enj?” Grantaire walks in, already taking off his jacket and kicking off his boots. When he looks towards the bed and sees Enjolras, he goes completely still, his eyes widening.

“Hi,” Enjolras says hesitantly. Slowly, a smile lights up Grantaire’s face and he pretty much runs the few steps that still separate them, leaving the jacket and his bag on the floor by the door.

He stops at the edge of the bed, taking Enjolras’ extended hand, studying him as if he is something new and fascinating he’s never seen before. He knows he is blushing under Grantaire’s gaze.

Grantaire walks to the side of the bed, trying to see him from all angles, smiling widely. Enjolras turns his head so Grantaire can see the back.

“Fuck, Enj, you look amazing,” he says as he walks back to stand in front of Enjolras, the awe in his voice seeming to warm him up from inside. Grantaire raises his free hand to touch his hair, but some hesitation must be showing on Enjolras’ face, because he stops halfway. “May I?”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, but he is smiling now, his nervousness quickly being replaced by giddy excitement because Grantaire is _clearly_ not unhappy. He pushes himself forward, placing his knees at either side if Grantaire’s legs, and the eye roll is all the answer Grantaire needs. He smiles even wider and lets go of Enjolras’ hand in favor of running both his hands through his hair. Enjolras sighs contentedly and closes his eyes. This feels too good. He leans forward, resting his head against Grantaire’s stomach and hooking his fingers on the belt loops of his jeans, as he slowly caresses his hair and neck, sending shivers through his entire body.

“It feels amazing too,” Grantaire says.

“You like it then?”

“Are you kidding? I love it!” He gently lifts Enjolras’ head with both hands. “Don’t you?”

Enjolras smiles. “I do.”

“Good,” Grantaire says, leaning down to kiss him, fingers still stroking the hair behind his ears.

He sits down beside Enjolras after they part, one leg tucked under himself and the other stretched behind Enjolras’ back. He is still smiling at him and seems unable to keep his hands away from the edge of Enjolras’ hair. Enjolras leans into the touch, humming happily.

“Any specific reason why you decided to do this?” Grantaire asks, and there’s just a hint of worry in his voice.

“Not really,” Enjolras frowns. “The people at the salon kept telling me it would look good.” He thinks for a moment, then adds, giving Grantaire an amused look: “I guess I’ve been allowing more change into my life lately.”

“Why do I feel like I’m being accused of being the disturbance in the force?

Enjolras snorts. “Not disturbing, just shaking it up a bit.”

“I can live with that.” Grantaire is running his thumb up and down the side of Enjolras’ neck now, making his skin tingle all over. “Seriously though. The last time I had a radical change in hairstyle like this I wasn’t… in a very good place.”

Enjolras knew Grantaire being worried was a possibility. He looks back at him as seriously as he can manage while having his hair and neck stroked like this. Which isn’t very serious at all.

“I promise it’s nothing like that,” he says, right before his eyes fall shut again and he lets out a small groan as Grantaire slides his fingers into the longer strands at the top of his head, tugging at them a little. Grantaire seems satisfied enough with the answer, because he lets the subject drop. Enjolras gets lost in the feeling of his hand in his hair until he speaks again.

“Your neck seems so long now.”

Enjolras hums. “It feels cold…”

“Yeah?” Grantaire leans closer, brushing Enjolras’ neck with his lips. Enjolras nods slightly, trying not to move too much.

Grantaire starts kissing all the way down his neck in painfully slow movements, playing with the top button of his shirt. Enjolras tries to keep his breath steady, a plan that fails completely at the first feeling of Grantaire’s tongue on his skin.

“Better?” Grantaire asks, starting to kiss all the way back up, nipping lightly at his skin. His voice is so low it makes Enjolras shiver.

He hums appreciatively. “My ears feel cold too.”

Grantaire laughs and his breath is hot against his ear. He bites and licks at the lobe and Enjolras shudders, his skin tingling all over. His shoulder is pressed hard against Grantaire’s chest now, and he doesn’t know when the top two buttons of his shirt were opened but Grantaire’s hand is wandering inside, his thumb caressing Enjolras’ throat. When Enjolras lets out a soft moan Grantaire’s breath hitches against his ear, sending a wave of sparks through his spine and drawing another moan out of him.

“Hey,” Grantaire whispers. “Your ears are kinda big.”

Enjolras bursts into laughter and he can feel Grantaire chuckling against him, which makes him laugh harder.

“You’ve ruined the mood!” he whines and pretends to be about to get up and leave, knowing that Grantaire is going to hold him back. Which he does, laughing, maneuvering them both until they are laying down, Enjolras on his back and Grantaire on his side, holding himself up with one arm beside Enjolras’ head.

“Did I now?” He asks, brushing his nose against Enjolras’, his free hand fiddling with the remaining buttons of his shirt.

“Mm-hmm.” Enjolras pulls him into a messy open-mouthed kiss with a hand on the back of his head, tugging hard at his curls.

Grantaire makes a startled sound against his mouth, but kisses back fiercely. When he pulls back, his lips are plump and red and his eyes are dark. It’s in moments like this that Enjolras thinks he understands what Grantaire means when he says someone is so beautiful he would like to paint them. Grantaire’s eyes move hungrily down Enjolras’ body, his hand following the same path, and Enjolras feels dizzy, his breath hitching when Grantaire’s fingers brush at the elastic band of his boxers and goes back up the same way.

“I love it when you wear my clothes,” he says with a smirk, rubbing one of Enjolras’ nipples with his thumb through the fabric.

Enjolras breathes in sharply and Grantaire pinches in response, looking at him straight in the eyes with that infuriating smirk of his. Enjolras squirms under both his hand and his gaze, swallowing a moan.

“I thought you’d rather take them off,” Enjolras says breathlessly, both embarrassed and surprised at himself for a moment. He may tease, but he almost never speaks up or demands anything, even when Grantaire is being maddeningly slow like this.

Grantaire grins broadly and pushes himself up and over Enjolras, his elbows on either side of his head and one knee between his tights. “I didn’t realize we were in a hurry,” he whispers, kissing and biting Enjolras’ neck, his stubble rough against his too hot skin.

Enjolras grabs his hair with one hand and starts tugging at his shirt with the other. He is getting more annoyed at Grantaire’s clothes by the minute.

“Take that off,” he says, almost pleading.

With one last sharp bite on his neck, Grantaire gets up on his knees and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. Enjolras smiles appreciatively and Grantaire squints at him with a smirk, _finally_ undoing the last few buttons on Enjolras’ shirt. Enjolras moans when Grantaire brushes the tips of his fingers lightly over his sides, almost tickling. He raises the thigh that is still between Grantaire’s legs just a little and is rewarded with a groan and Grantaire letting himself drop back on top of him, kissing him hard in the mouth and grinding against him.

Enjolras breathes raggedly, pushing his hips up to meet Grantaire, even the thin cotton of the boxers feeling like too much of a barrier. He runs his hands over the hair on Grantaire’s chest and stomach and he grinds harder when Enjolras digs his nails into his waist.

He kisses down Enjolras’ throat and past his collarbones, still slow, but there’s a note of urgency in his movements now. He twists his tongue around one of his nipples, sending a shockwave through Enjolras’ body forcing him to throw his head back against the mattress, one hand grasping helplessly at the covers and the other holding on to Grantaire’s hair. He swears he can feel Grantaire grinning against his skin, nipping at his nipple as the slides one has down and palms Enjolras through his boxers.

Enjolras lets out a loud moan and _knows_ he is not going to last long, moving his hips to meet Grantaire’s hand. Grantaire raises his head as his hand slips inside Enjolras’ boxers, looking intently at his face as he strokes him slowly and Enjolras has no control over the sounds that come out of his mouth. He is fighting to keep his eyes open, to see Grantaire’s hungry eyes and flushed cheeks, but his eyelids are heavy and his head is swimming.

“R…” he breathes out. “Please…”

“Hmm?” Grantaire bites lightly at his jaw before looking back at him. “What do you want?”

That’s too much for Enjolras’ brain to process at this stage, and apparently he takes too long to answer, because Grantaire squeezes him a little tighter and runs his thumb over his head. Enjolras shuts his eyes and lets out a loud moan.

“Tell me,” Grantaire breathes in his ear and Enjolras’ whole body shakes.

“Your mouth,” he manages finally, more breath than real words.

Grantaire kisses him hard before pushing himself up again, pulling Enjolras’ boxers down. His mouth trails down his stomach, and he licks and sucks hard at Enjolras’ hip bone, drawing strangled noises from his mouth and Enjolras knows he is going to have a bruise there later. Grantaire does the same to the inside of his thigh before licking slowly up his length. Enjolras keens, arching his back and he knows he is talking incoherently now. His brain shuts down completely when Grantaire takes him into his mouth.

Grantaire is holding him down with both hands on his hips but not hard enough, so when he speeds up Enjolras’ hips jump up towards his mouth without him thinking. Instead of holding tighter Grantaire lets him move, and the vibration when he moans sends sparks up Enjolras’ spine. He is so close.

Grantaire holds him down hard now, taking him in as far as he can. Enjolras’ legs are shaking as he comes with a strangled cry.

Slowly, he lets go of Grantaire’s hair and looks down at him, dazed and exhausted and still breathing fast. Grantaire is smiling brightly and Enjolras lets his head fall back and closes his eyes when Grantaire moves to join him and only opens them again when he feels a curl being brushed away from his forehead.

“Hi,” Grantaire says, looking a little too pleased with himself.

Enjolras tries to answer, but only a low groan comes out of his mouth. He closes his eyes again and Grantaire laughs.

“I love you too.”

Enjolras smiles as the fog in his brain begins to clear. He turns to face Grantaire, reaching down with eager but still shaky hands to unbutton his jeans, but Grantaire stops him. He laughs at Enjolras’ disgruntled expression and wraps his arms around him.

“Later.”

Enjolras huffs but he is still too weak to really protest. He lets his head fall on Grantaire’s chest and soon he is stroking his hair again. Enjolras sighs contentedly.

“I really do love your new haircut.”

“I’ve noticed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://deboracabral.tumblr.com/).  
> Sunfreckle proofread this nonsense and encouraged me as usual <3


End file.
